Drabbles in Russian History
by kototyph
Summary: Various points and problems in Ivan's complex, bloody, and often hilarious history. ALL CHAPTERS WILL BE VERY SHORT. T for now.
1. Harbor My Baltic Fleet

**DRABBLES IN RUSSIAN HISTORY  
larussophile  
» Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia  
» Rating: T**

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**Harbor my Baltic Fleet

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_1863 - The U.S. is a bit preoccupied with the Civil War, and Russia has his own problems with the Polish Revolt._

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"Oh, _Amerika... _would you mind helping me with something for a moment?"

"Not a good time, Ivan, sorry--ah, Ivan! W-what are you doing?"

"_Darigoi amerikanets, _Do you think I persuade you to, ah, 'harbor' my 'Baltic fleet'?"

"Oooo, _yes_... but why?"

"The why is not very important... though it may have something to do with England threatening to cut it off after I threatened Poland with it..."

"What?"

"Not important! Here comes the fleet!"

"Oh, _Ivan~_"

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_That's right. The winter of 1863, the Baltic fleet of the Imperial Navy stayed in New York and San Fransisco harbors. The goal? Sink British merchant ships while keeping the fleet out of harm's way from the British navies, who supported Polish independence. And the American public was gaga for Russia, because it was seen as a show of support for the Union. _

_Also, the Baltic fleet was... kind of tiny... and old. Ahahahaha, sorry Ivan, don't kill me!_


	2. Peter III, or That Idiot

**DRABBLES IN RUSSIAN HISTORY  
larussophile  
» Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia  
» Rating: T**

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Peter III, or That Idiot

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_January 1762 - The empress Elizabeth dies and her son Peter III, an avid Prussophile and admirer of Fredrick the Great, ascends the throne of Russia. Russia, fighting against Prussia and Great Britain in the Seven Years War, is forced to make some rather humilitating concessions for his new tsar's love of Prussia..._

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Gilbert stood back to admire his handiwork for a moment. "If you don't mind me saying so, that color really suits you, Ivan! Brings out your eyes an' stuff! Well, I'm off to beat finish beating the crap out of Roderich, thanks again for pulling out!" And he went off, cackling. "_Hahaha, how awesome is this? Almost as awesome as me...!_"

"God, this is great," muttered Arthur, snapping a daguerreotype. "Yes, indeed, it is. See you around, Braginsky."

Francis stared at the Russian for a bit. "Eh... I guess I'll just go... defend something. Cassel sounds like a good idea." He left too.

Ivan, violently pink bows tied in his hair, violently pink ribbons around his throat, violently pink frilly dress stretched over his broad chest, and violently pink knee-socks pulled up his legs, vowed, "_Yah byudu ubit tebya, ti yobanaya suka_!"

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_A bare month later, Peter III was murdered by supporters of his young wife Catherine (soon to be Catherine the Great). She immediately restarted the war against Prussia, but by then it was too late. Peace negotiations were concluded in May of 1762._

_Alfred was at this time off fighting New World version of the Seven Years War, the French and Indian War. That ended in 1763._

~Translation: I will kill you, you fucking bitch!~


	3. The Island of Sakhalin

**DRABBLES IN RUSSIAN HISTORY  
larussophile  
» Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia  
» Rating: T**

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The Island of Sakhalin

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_August 1945 - While Japan is busy fighting the United States in World War II, Russia finds some time to make territorial claims._

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A look to the left. A look to the right.

Sneak, sneak. Down the hallway, pull open the door, pull open the drawer, and-- faceplant, into the floor of Japan's bedroom, Japan riding his back. Ivan gripped his prize as tightly as possible as Kiku tried to wrest it away.

"Ivan-san! Please cease and desist from stealing my half of Sakhalin!"

The material, printed with pine trees, stretched between their hands, but neither looked to be giving up.

Protruding from a pocket of Ivan's greatcoat was a bra with the same piny pattern. "_Noh Yaponia_, I already have the top half... why not just give me the bottom?"

"_Never!_" shouted the Japanese man.

A large boom sounded outside the house, followed by the distant cry of, "_That's right! I'm the hero!"_

"_Kuso!_" growled Kiku, and after a last kick to the ribs sprinted out of the room.

With his face ground into the carpet: "Aha! Victory is mine!" The panties were waved like a flag.

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_No peace treaty has ever been signed, and the surrounding islands' true ownership is still disputed to this day... _

_Sakhalin indeed mostly covered with pine trees._


	4. La Cucaracha

**DRABBLES IN RUSSIAN HISTORY  
larussophile  
» Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia  
» Rating: T**

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Cockroach

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_Musing on the history of the infamous _Blattella germanica_, one sees a definite pattern begin to emerge..._

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_A high, piercing shriek sliced through the frosty pink St. Petersburg dawn, emanating from an upstairs parlor of the Winter Palace and echoing through the halls and courtyards to bounce off cobblestones and frighten the pigeons gathered there.

Katarina danced in place, her dressing gown hiked up her knees, and continued to scream, words at this point completely indecipherable. At the breakfast table, a pot of overturned tea steamed gently and Natalia sat with her knees drawn up to her chin, scowling in sleepy annoyance. In between them a tower of muffins had fallen onto and over the tabletop, icings and nuts scattered across the Turkish rugs and French parquet.

In the middle of the mess was a bug.

Ivan burst into the room, hair mussed and missing a slipper. "_Daragiye, shto sluchilas'?!_"

"Brother, there was an insect on Katya's _blin'_," Natalia stated matter-of-factly.

"_Aie! Targan! Targaaan!_"

"Sister is overreacting," Natalia opined coolly. She brought her teacup squarely down on the hapless thing with a very final crunch.

"Katushka, _idi suda,_" Ivan sighed. Katarina flung herself, crying hysterically, into his arms. He patted her head, absently.

"... damn Prussian cockroaches."

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A few hundred miles away, the nation of Prussia chased a small, skittering black shape across the terra cotta tile of the conservatory. It ran beneath a low stone bench, which Gilbert didn't quite manage to jump, and from there into a decorative drain. "_Verdammt!" _he growled.

"_So was_, my dear Gilbert! For everyone one you see there are thousands hidden," the monarch sitting at the glass table next to him intoned, sipping slowly from his morning coffee. "It makes no difference to kill just one."

Gilbert, laying full-length across the stone seat, turned to glower at his boss. "My dear Frederick, I beg to disagree; the only, and any, good Russian cockroach is a dead one!"

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A few hundred years later, Northern Italy found Germany waist deep in his kitchen cabinets, spraying with something that was quickly filling the room with a thick bluegreen smog.

"Ve~, Doitsu, _ch-che cosa è questo?_" Feliciano coughed out.

An indistinct, somehow metallic grunt was his only answer. So he waited.

Fidgeted.

"Doitsu~"

"_Hn._"

"_Doitsu~!_"

There suddenly emerged from under the counter a terrifying spectacle: in place of Ludwig's head a contraption all horrid glass goggles, leather straps and ominous whistling tubes. Feliciano let out a squeak of pure fright and nearly fainted on the spot.

Voice echoing within the confines of his gas mask, Ludwig growled, "_Was, _was? I need to get rid of these damn French cockroaches before they get in the _Wurst, Italien!_"

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Always a Johnny-Come-Lately, some decades after that the United States of America opened his storeroom door to have a bit of a mope, only to screech loudly as several dark flecks scurried away from the light and into the shadowy reaches of the room.

"DAMN GERMAN COCKROACHES! Matthew! _Tony_! SOMEBODY GET ME THE BUGSPRAY!"

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_That's right. _Blattella germanica_, ladies and gentlemen! The cockroach who assumes the name of whichever country you happen to be fighting!_


	5. Buffalo

**DRABBLES IN RUSSIAN HISTORY**  
**larussophile**  
**» Fandom: Axis Powers Hetalia**  
**» Rating: T**

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Buffalo

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_In 1871, the United States hosted the 22-year-old Grand Duke Alexei, fourth son of the tsar. Among other nice touristy things -- looking at the under-construction Brooklyn Bridge, visiting Chicago six weeks after the Great Fire -- Alexei mentioned to President Grant that he'd always wanted to hunt buffalo..._

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_Somewhere in southwestern Nebraska:_

While the ducal party reclined after a long, hard day fighting the snow and winds for their game, Alfred, Buffalo Bill Cody and Chief Spotted Tail remained outside in the knife-like winds. The nation slowly froze to his saddle as he watched the close black tide of beasts swirl and coalesce, listening to the bellowing and thinking dreamily of the wagons floored with Persian rugs and champagne waiting for them.

"Come on, Braginsky!" he yelled out hoarsely, for what seemed like the millionth time. "They'll still be there tomorrow!"

The crying wind was all that answered him.

"Braginsky! _For God's sake!_"

There was a terrified squeal from a tortured animal, and the herd suddenly broke around the spectacle of the giant Russian wrestling a huge bull to ground. "Ahaha! _Amerika_, I've caught another!" he called excitedly.

"...your friend not normal," said Chief Spotted Tail bemusedly.

"Trust me, I know," Alfred muttered.

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_The party was led by Sheridan, his protégé General Custer, and the 25-year old army scout William Cody, better known as Buffalo Bill. Chief Spotted Tail provided 'Authentic Indian entertainment"._


End file.
